Adjustments
by E. Beckham
Summary: Jax must adjust to a new life after the death of his father. It's a good thing Opie is looking out for him. This story is set before the show begins. Warning: Spankings of teenagers.
1. Chapter 1

The club and all their families had gathered for a party for the first time since JT's death. The room was full of laughter, music, talking, and children playing. Jax and Opie each were on their third stolen beer, although nobody except for Jax's mother would have cared if they were drinking.

Abruptly the music stopped. Clay stood next to the bar and rapped on it with a bottle, signaling that he wished to speak. He waited for the crowd to quiet.

"It's good to be together again." Cheers erupted from around the room. "Enjoying each other's company, instead of dealing with dark times." More whoops of approval and clapping. "We've worked hard for the good times, and deserve to enjoy the fruits of our labor." Chaotic applauses and roars, whistles and glasses clinking.

Clay waited for the group to settle, as he gestured for Gemma to join him. "Which is why today is the perfect day to announce that me and Gemma just got engaged!" There was a boisterous explosion of noise. Men clapped Clay on the back and women hugged Gemma excitedly.

No one noticed the fifteen-year-old blond boy who stood rooted in his place. His pale face had gone from happily drunk to enraged in a matter of seconds. Opie had seen this look before. He called it the-Jax-versus-a-mountain-lion look. That look meant trouble and usually got Opie into something he wasn't prepared for.

For a brief moment, Opie considered throwing his friend over his shoulder and escaping the party.

A minute later, Jax spun on his heel and threw his beer bottle at the brick wall. It shattered, causing people to jump away or shield their kids. Women and children screamed, and a few men cursed. But now all the noise and movement stopped. Everything was frozen.

Jax, still seething, faced Clay and his mother. Both looked ready to kill him.

"Seven months!" the boy bellowed, "That's how long you mourn my father! Or are you just a heartless bitch who fucks whoever is the boss?"

Gemma stormed at her son, while Clay began removing his belt.

Oh, Christ, Opie whispered. He had to rescue his stupid, drunk friend. The boy knew his own father would object to his interference; however, when Jax fought mountain lions, Opie was always by his side.

Opie grabbed his friend, pushing him toward the door. "You want to be the entertainment? Ripped to shreds in front of everyone?" he said in his friend's ear. "Then move your ass, dummy!"

With that, Jax ran. The boys escaped out the side gate, not even daring to look back. They had their favorite escape routes. Opie and Jax ran through the alley, behind the library and dry cleaner, in back of the three-store strip mall, and into the safety of the trees and hills.

Once they stopped to catch their breath, Opie flopped on the ground. Jax, still standing, looked around to be certain no one had followed them. Then he threw up, repeatedly.

"Holy shit," Opie gasped. "I'd rather actually fight a mountain lion than Gemma and Clay. Did you see her face? I almost peed myself."

He glanced over at Jax, saw the boy's shoulders shaking, and knew he was crying. He'd only ever seen his friend cry when Thomas died and then his dad. Only two times.

They sat in silence. The sun dipped low. The boys watched as the colors in the sky changed vibrantly. Once the stars were bright, Opie began to stir. He knew they both had to face their parents' wrath. Why delay it?

"Man, we gotta go back."

Jax nodded. He turned to his friend and looked up at him, solemnly. "Look, man, I appreciate your help. I'll try to get you out of this. I just lost it. Maybe they'll understand."

They both belly laughed at this suggestion. Theirs weren't the forgive-and-forget kind. Theirs were the pound-of-flesh kind.

"I got this. Sometimes you just gotta take a beating," Opie said quietly.

The boys walked down the main roads back to the clubhouse, not wanting to give away their best escape paths and knowing that the Club might be out looking for them. Better to be seen heading back, than doing anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Jax and Opie exchanged nervous looks as they approached the clubhouse.

"We got this," Jax said, with a coolness that Opie knew was mostly forced.

The smaller blond boy pulled open the door and stopped just inside. Opie was tall enough that he could see why. The Club, all eight men, were sitting at an oval table, apparently waiting for the boys. Clay sat at the head of the table and Piney was seated to his left. Also assembled were Tig, Chibs, Otto, Bobby, Keith, and Thomas. Everyone sat silently watching the boys.

"This is new," murmured Opie, as they made their way forward.

"Looks like a firing squad," whispered Jax.

The boys stopped near the table. They stood next to one another, each trying to look tough and not intimidated.

Clay finally broke the silence. "Is it still your intention to join SAMCRO when your time comes?"

"Yes," the boys said in unison.

"Good," he said. "Then remember this: _Do not hurt the club_."

Jax nodded.

"Yes, sir," Opie stated.

"Today, your actions hurt the club. Opie, you interfered and caused a situation that could have been resolved quickly to drag on. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for my part."

"Jackson, you—"

"Clay, could I say something?" Jax interrupted, trying to sound bolder than he felt.

Clay's eyes narrowed, "No."

"I just want to apologize. I know I was wrong. Way out of line. If you guys had just told me—"

Clay slammed his hand on the table and stood up so quickly his chair fell backwards. "NO EXCUSES! **_EVER._** You  own your mistakes like a man. **_DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!_** "

Jax nodded, trembling a bit, "Yes, I do."

" ** _You_** hurt the Club **_and_** your family today." Clay walked around the table and straight to where Jax stood. "You disrupted the Club's celebration, disrespected me and your mother, and threw a beer bottle in a crowded room. That shit will not stand. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Clay."

Without warning, Clay grabbed a fistful of Jax's hair and pulled the teen's face close to his own. " ** _And_** if you ever call your mother a bitch or anything like that again, I will beat your ass raw. **_Got it?_** "

"Got it," responded Jax, through gritted teeth.

Clay let go of the boy's hair and the teen resisted the urge to rub his sore head.

"So now we settle up," declared Clay. "Piney."

The man stood. As he moved around the table, he yanked his belt off. "You know what to do," he said flatly, looking at his son.

"Where?" Opie said simply.

"The bar," pointed his father.

With that Opie walked past the table of men and stood facing the bar. Before he leaned over, the teen pushed his jeans and boxers to his knees. Jax, alone, looked away.

Piney raised his belt and brought it down swiftly on his son's backside. The boy grunted, but made no other sound.

Jax tried not to listen as the belt did its damage. Would he be next? With the Club as witnesses, he guessed he would have to be. But Clay whipping him? Clay, who was gonna marry his mom? His heart rate quickened and he could hear his pulse in his ears.

Opie felt the belt connect one last time. Twelve times total. His long hair hung in his eyes and made it hard to wipe his hot face. But he used his hoodie sleeve to clean off before pulling up his pants and turning to the group.

He met his father's eyes, and the older man nodded. Opie slowly moved back to where Jax stood.

Once Piney sat down, Clay stood and gestured to Jax to go to the bar. The boy took a deep breath and complied. He did not wait for instructions, but dropped his jeans and underwear and bent at the waist, holding on to the bar.

Jax could hear the clink of Clay's belt being unbuckled, the flutter of it through his pant loops, and the man's boots causing the hardwood floor to creak as he advanced. The cool air on the boy's behind made him feel more vulnerable and embarrassed.

The belt whistled through the air, striking Jax's rear so powerfully that he bit his upper arm to keep from crying out. By the third lick, tears spilled though he willed them not to. Jax tried to focus on his hands squeezing the bar top and not his burning rear end. The strategy proved worthless by the eighth blow. He wanted to beg, cry out, dodge the next hit, but his pride kept him still and silent. Mostly. Gasps and grunts escaped as the boy breathed through his gritted teeth.

Clay laid the belt across his soon-to-be-stepson's butt and thighs. The boy flinched and made small noises, but otherwise took the beating well. Only red slashes, no cuts or blood, could be seen. Counting in his head, Clay stopped at sixteen. Jax was crying quietly.

Since he had no desire to humiliate the boy more, Clay waited for Jax to calm, redress and turn to face the Club.

Jax met Clay's eyes. The two stood silently gazing at one another for a moment. "You owe the boys an apology," Clay declared.

The young man nodded and walked to Piney. "I'm sorry for everything, Piney. Especially causing your family trouble."

Piney stood and hugged him. "Well, you are JT's boy," he said quietly, with a grin. "What else could I expect?"

Jax smiled and moved down the line, apologizing to each club member in turn. All hugged him. Many made smart-ass comments or teased him. Tig released him from his hug with a sharp slap to the teen's backside. Jax muffled a groan and squeezed his rear in agony, which caused the men to laugh rowdily.

Finally, the boy walked over to Clay. He didn't trust himself to say much. "Sorry," he murmured and offered his hand. The man nodded once and they shook.

Jax turned and moved back to Opie's side.

"You okay?" asked his friend quietly.

"Can you die from an ass whuppin'?" Jax joked. "Cause I might, especially when Gemma gets to me." His friend snickered.

"We're staying here tonight," announced Clay. Then to the boys, he added, "Settle in. …Out of sight."


	3. Chapter 3

Jax and Opie woke to Piney's booming voice, "Up and at 'em, Adam Ant. We're going to get breakfast soon. Be ready in 10."

"Who is Adam Ant?" said Jax, confused.

"Don't know. Never asked. But he says it every morning," shrugged Opie.

Jax rolled out of bed and grimaced as he rubbed his tender behind.

"How's it look," he said, as he dropped trou.

"There's a couple of small bruises, but nothing serious."

"I thought it'd be black," confided the blond teen. "How do you feel?"

"A bit stiff and achy, but okay. How does mine look?"

"Like nothing happened. Lucky."

The taller teen turned to look at his friend. "What do you think Gemma's gonna do?"

Jax's face darkened. "She's usually more of a slapper. …But she does have this strap her dad used to sharpen old-fashioned razors. …I'm pretty sure it's a war crime or like a human rights violation to use it."

Opie chuckled, "I'm sure the Geneva Convention will protect you."

"Oh, yeah? Where were they when we boosted that Mustang last summer?"

"Must've gotten lost. They missed my house too. Pop said he was gonna knock me into a new family."

The boys laughed.

"Doesn't sound too bad to me," muttered Jax, after a moment.

Five minutes later they stood by Clay's SUV, waiting to go. The boys were silent when the men approached.

Finally, Piney said, "Morning, boys."

"Morning," they each replied.

An awkward silence settled over them until Clay turned on the radio. As Johnny Cash sang about God's wrath, it became clear to Jax where they were headed—his mother's house. His heart raced, and he shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Opie, too, guessed where they were going. He understood his friend's dread.

"Clay?" Jax said suddenly.

The man grunted his acknowledgement.

"You sure you wouldn't rather go to the diner? They've got good breakfast."

The others laughed. Jax had only been sort-of kidding.

When finally they arrived, Clay waited for Jax and said, "You remember what I told you about owning your mistakes?"

"Yes, sir," said Jax, a reply that surprised them all.

Clay nodded and continued, "Your ma is not going to go easy on you. So just take what you got coming without complaint. Otherwise, you might not see sixteen, kid." He patted Jax on the shoulder roughly, pulled him closer, and put his arm around the boy.

Jax felt conflicted. He'd never had a problem with Clay before now. The man had always been a part of his life. He'd always been nice to Jax. Even kept his mouth shut about catching thirteen-year-old Jax testing out his dad's motorcycle. If that'd been discovered by JT or Gemma, it would have been a bad night in the Teller house.

The teen sighed, and put his arm around Clay too. "I'm going to have the Special of the Day: eggs with a side of ass whuppin'. Anyone else?"

Everyone laughed again. "No, thanks," said Clay. "That's all yours," as he ruffled the boy's hair and led him inside.


	4. Chapter 4

As they walked in the house, Clay directed Jax to the couch, saying quietly, "Let me talk to her first."

Jax nodded and sat on the couch. He kicked off his shoes and watched Piney drop into the recliner and close his eyes. Opie pulled out a book from his back pocket and stretched out on an oversized chair. Jax could see his friend was reading _The Catcher in the Rye_.

"Is it good?"

"Yeah, man. I've read it like three times. You can borrow it, if you want."

"Thanks. …Maybe later."

The voices in the kitchen began to grow louder. Suddenly Clay stomped out of the kitchen and announced gruffly, "Breakfast. Let's eat."

"Oh, good," whispered Jax, as Opie sidled up next to him, "He's pissed her off more. Just what I needed."

"Well, maybe, she'll just shoot you."

"Don't give me false hope." The boys snickered, earning them a glare from Clay.

Gemma carried out plates filled with omelets, hash browns, sausage, bacon, and toast and set them in front of the men.

"It looks delicious, Ma," said Jax, hopefully. However, his mother did not respond in any way.

The boy got up and grabbed a plate to help her. Still she refused to acknowledge him.

"Come on, Ma. I want to apologize," Jax said. "Please, I'm sorry!"

But Gemma merely walked around her son and set a plate in front of Opie and one at her place.

Everyone at the table was looking at her, as Jax took his seat. "Well. Eat," she said firmly.

Forks scraped plates and lips smacked. Jax looked around the table. Opie was reading his book again, the men conversed between bites, and his mom ate, keeping her eyes on her food. The boy had never seen this version of angry from her. He suddenly, unexpectedly wished for what he understood: her rage.

He leaned towards her, lowering his voice pleadingly, "Come on, Ma. Please….Listen!"

When his mom continued to ignore him, Jax slapped the table, the plates jumped and he hollered, "Ma!"

"Boy," Clay growled, a speared chunk of omelet at his chin. "That's enough. Shut up and eat."

Jax picked up his fork and began shoveling food in his mouth. He was in no mood to eat, though, and considered spitting the food out. Common sense told him that he would instantly regret it, so he forced himself to swallow and repeat until the food was gone.

After all had had their fill, Piney said, "Gemma, thank you for a delicious meal." He kissed her cheek and she smiled up at him. Then he added, "Boys, go do the dishes."

Clay took Gemma's hand and pulled her into his arms. "Come on, baby. Let's put our feet up while these fine young men handle the kitchen."

With that, the adults moved to the living room and the boys cleaned.

"Do you think that this is some new type of torture?" Jax said.

"What… cleaning? Man, you got a funny idea of what torture is," Opie said, sounding confused.

"No, not the cleaning, dumbass. _All this waiting!_ Gemma usually would have beat the snot out of me the moment I was in reach. But this silent treatment is BULLshit."

"Lower your voice, _dumbass_. Gemma or Clay comes back here, you'll get your wish: No more waiting."

After the dishes were washed, dried, and put away and the floor was swept and the table and counters were nearly spotless, the boys left the kitchen.

For the first time that day, Gemma looked at Jax. He knew what she was thinking and turned down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. The clicking of her heels on the floor told the boy that she was following him. First, he went to his parents' bedroom and got the strap from the peg in her closet where it hung. Then he turned back to his own room, where his mother now waited.

Jax entered his room and closed the door. Before he handed her the strap, he said, "Ma, I—"

"Shut it, Jackson. Hand it over. And drop your pants and underwear. Now."

Jax felt his chest tighten and his teeth clench. He raged internally. The adult world was so goddamn unfair. No one ever listened. Everything was just his fault. He had no choice, but to do what he'd been told or face a worse beating.

"You suck. Dad wouldn't let you do this if he were here," Jax replied coldly, still frozen and facing his mother.

Gemma moved closer to her teenage son and snarled, "You think your father would have let you get away with saying that I'm a heartless bitch who fucks whoever is in charge? Or throwing a beer bottle at the club wall?"

"No…but…."

"Get your ass over that bed, now," Gemma hissed, in a scary voice.

Jax threw the strap at her feet, turned away from her, shoved his pants and underwear down, and dropped onto the bed.

Shaking furiously, his mother grabbed the strap off the floor and brought it down ferociously across the boy's backside. He yelped, tears of anger and pain cascading down his cheeks.

Gemma did not soften. The heavy strap slapped its target, leaving wide pink stripes. The lashes she delivered were the worst he'd ever taken. Although she only gave him six, he had kicked off his pants and underwear during the short whipping.

When she was finished, Gemma left the room without a word. He heard her bedroom door open and close. Jax stayed on the bed, sobbing. He felt sick, sad, confused, and sorry.

How could everything be so fucked up? he thought.

Jax heard heavy boots moving down the hall and quickly pulled the edge of his quilt up around him to hide his nakedness. The boots moved past his room and to his mother's. After a gentle knock, he heard a quiet reply and the door opened and closed again.

Suddenly, he wanted his mom's arms around him, telling him it would all be okay. He didn't like fighting with her. She was his most fervent champion, and he had treated her like shit.

New tears overwhelmed the boy. He hardly noticed the brisk footsteps approaching his room. The door opened quickly, without any knock.

"Boy, you must have lost your damn mind. You told your mother she sucked?"

"I'm sorry, Clay," sobbed Jax. "Tell her…tell her…I didn't mean it."

Clay had never seen the kid in such a state before. He'd seen Jax fall off a motorcycle without a whimper. Take a beating in a fight and not shed a tear. Lose his brother and father—even those moments—the boy had held himself together. Somehow his tears now melted away Clay's resolve to punish the boy for being disrespectful.

Instead, the man sat down on the bed next to him and said, "Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay. In a week or month, no one is even going to remember this. Okay?"

Clay patted the boy's back.

"I…I…," hiccupped Jax.

"Take a breath. You don't have to talk now. Just settle down."

Jax nodded and tried to breath. "I didn't do what you said…. I didn't own it. …I blamed her."

"Don't call your mother 'her,'" said Clay, firmly.

"I told…. I told my mom she sucked," the boy stammered.

"She told me. I told _you_ I would beat your ass if you talked to her like that again. I meant it."

As Jax turned his head away, Clay reached over and flipped the quilt off of the boy, revealing his naked backside. The boy made no move to stop his almost-stepfather or protect himself.

Clay's hand spanked the pink butt five times. "I won't be that easy ever again. But I hope I never have to repeat any of this, okay?"

"Yes, sir," said Jax.

The boy slowly calmed down, while Clay sat patiently waiting. Finally, the man spoke, "Can you tell me why you got these whippings?"

"For disrespect and not taking responsibility for my mistakes."

"Exactly. You took your punishment and can admit your fault. Lesson learned. Now, get dressed, and go see your mother."

Once Clay left, Jax rubbed his bottom and stood up. He dressed in athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Then he made his way to his mother's room. He knocked and heard her say, "Come in."

When she saw Jax shuffle in, his red eyes, messy blond hair, and sagging shoulders tugged at her heart. "Come here, baby," she said, patting a spot beside her on the bed. He moved quickly, though stiffly, to the spot. She wrapped her arms around him and he started to cry again.

"Sorry, ma," he said quietly.

"Don't worry, baby. That's all over. We're okay."

With that, his guilt abated and the boy closed his eyes. Soon he had fallen fast asleep in his mother's arms.


End file.
